A marked man, A broken woman
by beebopshaobadop
Summary: REQUESTED: HARRY-FLEUR harry is horcrux hunting, Fleur was rejected by bill - two lonely people seek solace. Angst/romance. rated T for some sexual references.


A/N this was requested by 'slytherin 66' – yes, I'm doing oneshot requests of any ship / scenario you might feel like asking. Leave a request in my review box :D

He woke up, shaking and disorientated. After a few minutes, his heart rate slowed, and he ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, trying to recall memories that dripped from his mind like a leaky cauldron. The dream had felt... not real, but... honest. Like it was more accurate than real life. He had been at Hogwarts. By the lake, after the fourth trial. For a moment, harry grinned at the memory of his 14 year old self. That smile faded when he remembered the end of that year, and the return of Voldemort... Shaking his head, he returned his thought to the dream. Fleur had been in it - the French veela girl. She had came running, hugged her sister, kissed him on the cheek. Then – harry felt the heat rise in his face as he remembered the dream clearly now. She had kissed him. They had embraced, and the rest of the dream had blurred away, leaving the two teens entwined and...

Harry jumped up from his makeshift bed. He was camping in some Scottish forest, hunting horcruxes. Alone. He had left Ron and Hermione, trying to save their lives – but without them, he was lost. So lost, and alone. He could barely breath, the loneliness was so overwhelming. It engulfed him, swallowed him, until there was nothing left but loneliness. And despair. In an effort to avoid it, he kept moving. Kept searching, kept trying. Once again, he spoke a few words, disabled the wards, and apparated. He did not have a destination. His movements where aimless and unpredictable Harry simply just pictured somewhere safe, warm, and concealed. Unbidden, he remembered his vivid dream just as he spun into nothingness.

Harry stumbled, disorientated. There was so much noise- wailing and screeching filled his ears, voices screaming, running footsteps. What the hell was going on? He straightened out, pulling his hand through his hair out of habit- and revealing his lightening bolt scar. Just as he began to get his bearings, he witnessed a flash of silver, and he was flung to the floor.

"Use your cloak!" a horribly familiar voice, haughty and yet seductive, hissed in his ear. "I am sorry, Monsieur. I thought I may had seen something, but 'eet was simply my... reflection" Fleur informed the goblin that must have been watching. Harry understood – his thoughts of the French witch had caused his apparating to stray – instead of a secluded, safe cave, he had landed in the ministry controlled wizarding bank, setting off all the alarms. Luckily, Fleur had been there. Right. Lucky. Because she was exactly who he wanted to see right now. Trying to remain silent, he followed her as she ran nervously down corridors, turning at random, until they entered a room. She turned angrily towards the door.

"Take eet off- we are safe. What are you doing 'ere, 'Arry?" She hissed in her velvety voice. Harry pulled off his cloak, blushing.

"I... I was apparating and I...thought of you." he knew how foolish he must sounds, but something compelled him to be honest. "I dreamt about you. I'm so lonely and I was thinking about you and-"

"Arry, you cannot stay here! 'Eet is not safe, for you!" She shushed his protests, flung the cloak over them, and took his hand. "We shall go to the place I am staying at – There, 'eet is safe for tonight."With that, she spun, and they vanished.

Fleur's flat was simple, yet elegant. Silver and black covered the room, in elegant furnishing and wall hangings. When they arrived, harry witnessed Fleur's skill as a witch yet again. She began to mutter complex spells, surrounding the house with enchantments.

"I 'ave 'ad no need for these – I am no longer with the order" She informed his as she went. "Bill, 'ee is too good for me- 'ee has found another. I 'ave been alone now for months, and I am better for eet!" She sounded defiant, and Harry could see the obvious bluff. He was not the only one who was lonely. "'Arry, you must tell me everything. 'Ow are things?"

The two talked for hours – Harry found himself unburdening all his worries, fears, and secrets to the beautiful witch, and in return she told him all of hers. The two drank firwhiskey, and both laughed and cried for the first time in many months. After two thirds of the bottle was gone, harry was feeling braver. Fleur's concern for him was obvious, and his dream was fresh in his mind. He leant closer to her, breathing in. She smelt beautiful … of plums, and some exotic spice he could not name.

"Fleur..." He murmured, lust heavy in his voice. She met his eyes, peering between her long lashes, and he felt himself harden. "Fleur... I'm so lonely... you're beautiful.." his thoughts, like his speech, where disjointed and illogical, and yet he leant closer, closer, until his dry, nervous lips met her luscious ones. To his surprise, she did not draw back, but deepened the kiss. Her soft and foreign tongue searched his mouth, and he himself pulled back in shock.

"Maybe we shouldn't... we're drunk and..." as he watched her, her hair seemed to glow, and her eyes grew darker. He was overwhelmed by the urge to please her, to impress.

"'Arry..." she pulled him close, and the two lonely souls found solace- if just for a night.

Harry awoke, with a pounding headache. Glancing aside, he saw Fleur sleeping, naked and beautiful, by his side. As he watched her chest rise and fall, with the rhythm of innocent, easy breathing, his heart grew dark. More than sex had been shared last night. Two souls had opened up to one another – and he realised suddenly that he would always hold her in his heart. The reasons for leaving Ron and Hermione flooded back to him. Bitterly, harry stood. Ignoring his aching head and pounding heart, he clothed himself, turned his back and walked away. Head pounding, heart aching, the marked man left the house of the broken woman, for he would not put her at risk. He would not allow himself to love. Wearing the expression of a man about to die, he closed his eyes, turned on the spot, and disappeared.


End file.
